What if, in premonitions, biblical people could not put into words something like Netflix’s Original Series, The Purge? What if, instead of children turning upon their parents with murder, it was a brief vision into the middle of the 12-hour free-for-all? Like how are they going to differentiate between a television series and reality as people harkening from somewhere between AD 80-140?

All of this judging the validity of prophecies to be true, that is.

The piercing sound of the siren signaling Game On? Or, Matthew Chapter 10 verse 21 merely detailing a glimpse into the depths to which humankind has stooped to date?

And the brother shall deliver up the brother to death, and the father the child: and the children shall rise up against their parents, and cause them to be put to death.

I haven’t seen any of the Purge movies, mainly because to watch any horror movie is to subject myself to many sleepless nights, and I already have many sleepless nights – no need to pile on. Being largely immune to safe-terror found in situations like rock climbing or haunted houses (or rollercoasters for that matter) I went to Halloween Horror Nights and did The Purge haunted house and while standing in the line thought to myself: I bet this is a classic case of prophetic wire-crossing. Christians will suffer great persecution at the hands of…Attention, this is not a test…

Just something to keep in mind as you go about your daily business. Points of reference are important when assessing anything, including prophecies.

I happened upon Gladwell’s David and Goliath Monday morning at the airport in Chicago while my coworker wrestled in an unwinning manner with a woman at the cash register of a coffee bar to sell her a cup of coffee, which was not in the cards as the woman was in no mood to be facing people at such an early hour, let alone execute the timeless task of punching the small black coffee = $3.49 button.

I flipped through the first chapter and then added it to the My Shelves section of the Public Library app, along with the other 164 books I intend to read – including The Lake House, 6 Armistead Maupin Tales books, The Diaries of Nella Last, The Great Alone, Accordion Crimes, Kitchen Confidential, and 153 historical books about the city of my birth. Long live the confluence and its three petals on a red field!

Nothing makes me literally run to the library faster than an email explaining my recently requested book is now available for pick up. And that is what I intend to do when David and Goliath comes a-calling.

“Underdogs, Misfits, and the Art of Battling Giants,” the sub-line reads. See, it’s not what you think at all, there is way more not only to the fable of David and his Goliath, but to what it means to be the underdog, or to go up against some force far greater than yourself.

I’ve always wondered about those seriously buttoned up guys I work with, or what it would be like to own the goddamned arm rests on an airplane, walk in a park, down the street on a dark night, or go to sleep in my house like a freakin’ boss. What is it like to be a man?

Is that why I’m gay, because I want to be a dude? Absolutely not interested in pursuing that conversation, or contemplating my position on the sexual orientation continuum with you, distant reader. I know for a fact I have no idea what it is to be a man, but I know from listening to women who have transitioned to men what it is to learn about the secret lives of men.

They’re not alone, either. Women have secret lives too, but we learn young how few females we can rely upon, which is quite dissimilar to males who form into a protective pack early on. My son used the phrase “bro-code” at age 9, to my resounding disagreement, but it was already out there, whether he told me about it or not from then on.

This issue with singular women pans out much the same at work, more so if you’re in a workplace where to be a woman is kind of an anomaly and it is better to try to get along with everyone and smile pretty for things to keep working out well.

As we know by now, I neither excel at smiling pretty and playing either by the rules or at being nice to the nice boys.

With gratefulness, I acknowledge the exceptions to plodding gradually uphill amongst these people – the bright spots in the road – my own team mates, seriously cool-guy coworkers, and the women I work with, at least those who will be warm and be personable are also wonderful. Solid brainiac folks who by proximity make me a little bit smarter every day.

I cannot help but reflect upon how catty some women are to each other – having been out of high school for several decades makes no difference to the approach, either. Even those women I pass in the park to whom I say hello, greetingly, if they are with their man, and that man dares to cross the proverbial line in the sand by responding cordially, she will without question stare me down with what my cousin used to call her mom’s Bumpy Eyes. The evil eye. The same eye I am sometimes faced with in the elevator at work, when I say hello. I generally say hello to everyone, too, so I have a broad array of data to pull from.

It’s the environment, I tell myself. Is it? Like the entire world’s environment?

I unwittingly brought up 3,000 years of patriarchy to my brother, who was not amused in the least as he’s feeling especially persecuted for being a white male right about now. I was trying to make a point that women both at work and around-about, seem to be suffering from isolationism – as though disassociation from other women is a safer bet. Even in light of the throttling up of Women Power overtaking the universe at this very moment I think it is evident that we are in many ways still weaker than our mirrored males from whom a rib was taken so that we might be given life. (If you’re given to that particular philosophy, you go right ahead and be forever grateful to Adam’s rib)

We are weaker and I do not dispute it.

All the self-defense lessons in the world are not going to help me match someone with 3x the muscle mass and the force of testosterone to back it.

I think that bothers women enough to express that insecurity outwardly to other women in particular because it is in women they can find commonality or at least get a rise. In men, they have little effect, in some cases, other than to exist as an object, or as a part of a statistical dimension in the workplace.

Or is that even true? Have you ever played devil’s advocate to your own arguments? It’s maddening.

I don’t know, I refer back to the primer on David and Goliath and consider it very important to tackle the shit out of these stereotypical responses from either gender in the workplace because I actually believe this generation will contribute positively to unity not just in the workplace but within the reaches of their entire world.

Six or seven years ago I was given a guest appearance spot during the Women’s Employee Resource Group meeting. Total disaster. I am not a natural public speaker as I tend to inhale almost continually until my diaphragm is ready to explode, rendering me totally unable to exhale while still speaking.

More on the speech in a moment. I am reminded of when I defended my dissertation to the American Academy of Religions – somehow this happens to undergrads from time to time. I went through my paper, watching the sea of nodding heads and expressionless gazes. I know I ballsed it up hard. Read too fast, opened it up for Q&A and ended up sounding like I was on laughing gas. A pastor who had allowed me to do an 8-week internship with her gay bereavement group informed me as I exited the stage (this being the one moment most optimal to deliver this news) that I ought to invest in public speaking lessons.

And she wasn’t wrong, because look at me, a decade and a half on, and I’m standing in front of 65 professional women, at the height of my company’s thrill over ERG’s, inhaling the shit out of the air desperately waterboarding myself into a fury as I explained the concept of the gay ERG I had been nurturing for 6 years with 15 other people, organizing pride parades and god knows what else. The looks on their faces…

Be relatable, I told myself as I stepped to the front of the room. Yes, let’s discuss gay employee groups with totally conservative women who need their own group just to figure out how the hell to fit in on the job. Yes, let’s.

This is what I am saying, go figure out how to slay all of the Goliaths, if that is what it takes. Because Goliath is bring-downable. Goliath as an analogy or legitimate historical story is not what it seems. If you’re going to bring something down, at least interpret the circumstances correctly to make efforts effective. The reality of life is resting on the tip of our nose.

I’m going to read the entire book not just the free sample on iBooks. But, I’ll leave you with 1) the table of contents so you can see what’s in store, and 2) a brief quote, and wish you well on your way as you fling yourself headlong into tackling something big in your life, something that is trying to overcome you, or overcome someone or something you care about.

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The Minimum

Creating within the protective, mildly narcissistic/over-sharing shell; low-scale pressure, nothing to live up to except to frequently teleport into the open field of mind-space. I have turned off the comments section; if you're burning to talk with me, click the icon at the top of the page and send me an email.